Pyro burnt my disclaimer down, but it sounded like he said between the
insane cackling, "Nessie6 doesn't own anything that has to do with X-Men
Evolution"
Summary- St. John Allerdyce always had a fascination with fire. My story on Pyro's life before Magneto.
Author's Note- It may seem I'm just jumping in the years and things awfully quick, but John being age eight and under isn't as important. Again, I apologize for the accents.
Chapter Four- Accident
Ian Larson and John Allerdyce had been best friends for a year now. They would always walk to each other's houses play fun games and just do a bunch of fun stuff. Right now, they were sitting on the floor with a bunch of chocolate in front of them, taunting poor two-year old Irene.
"No, no" John teased, waving a piece of chocolate brownie in front of her face, and when her chubby little hands when to reach for it, he'd snatch it back and take a bite out of it. "Yoah not old enough ta eat MOY chocolate." And he stuffed the rest of his brownie into his mouth and chewing it with his mouth open. Clearly this seven year old didn't have any manners.
Irene burst out in tears.
John moaned in exasperation. "Don' ya evah stop croyin'?"
Ian shook his head. "Nope, she doesn't."
Sue then came into the living room to see what Irene was crying about this time. "Wot did ya do *now*?" she said in annoyance.
John spoke in his defense, "OY didn' do anything! Me and Ian 'ere woz just mindin' our own business, when Irene 'ere troid ta steal our chocolate!"
"Oy doubt that, John," she said and bent down to scoop Irene in her arms. Irene wrapped her arms around her neck in a death grip and cried her little heart out on her mother's shoulder.
"It's the truth!" He protested, "It's the truth! She can' have moy chocolate! It's mine! Isn't she too young? Whoy do ya awlways blame ME?"
Sue rubbed her rubbed her forehead with one hand wearily as she listened to John.
"Oy'm not loyin'! Oy'm not loyin'! Whoy do ya awlways blame me?" John wailed over and over again until Sue nearly cried.
"Would ya stop, *please* John?" she said tiredly, setting a protesting Irene back on the floor.
"But Oy told you! Oy'm not loyin'! Oy'm tellin' the truth!" John said even though his mother didn't say otherwise.
"John, just shut up an' go an' get me moy cigarettes," she said and when she looked up and saw his hurt face she added softly, "Oy nevah said you were loyin'."
Silently John went to the kitchen where the cigarettes were, Ian following behind him. On the counter was a carton of his mother's brand of cigarettes. He reached up and grabbed it and then opened it and peered inside. There was only one left.
He lifted his head up to share a look with Ian. Ian just shrugged and turned around so they could go back to the living room. John followed.
He went up to his mother, who was now sitting on the couch, and she took them gratefully. Irene was attempting to climb up the couch herself but she was too short. Sue reached down and grabbed her arm and pulled her up so she could sit next to her.
She opened the pack and stared at it for awhile as Irene bounced around humming happily.
Sue looked up. Here eyes wandered the room for a minute before she hollered, "STEVE! STEVEN!" and she jumped to her feet as he came in looking very annoyed.
"Woman, if you wont tha' car fixed by today yoah gonna stop interruptin' me!" He snapped at her, all full of grease.
"Did you have all moy cigarettes?" She snarled at him.
"Oy had four of them, Oy ran out of moine!" He seethed back at her.
"Oy had awlmost a whole pack! Where the hell do you think the rest of them went?"
"Are you cawllin' me a liar?"
"Yes, Oy am."
"Well, Oy didn't take no more than four of yoah fuckin' cigarettes."
"Don't you tawlk ta me that way!"
"Oy can tawlk to you however Oy want."
John grabbed Irene hastily and ran out of the room with Ian behind them, both of them sensing a big fight coming.
"They foight ovah the stupidest things," he muttered to Ian.
Ian shook his head, "Don' fret, mate. Moy parents foight awl the time. An' then they foight awl the time with moy brothers and sister. Itsa nuthouse ovah theah."
"Let's go outside," John suggested. He really wanted to get away from the yelling.
They walked outside, and John placed Irene in a little fenced in play area they had so she wouldn't go wandering off. She happily played in her little sandbox.
"Ya wanna play 'Bloind Tag'?" asked Ian.
"Sure!" John said excitedly and hopped over the little fence to fetch the two bandanas that were close to where Irene was.
Then they played rock, paper, scissors to see who was it, and to John's dismay, he was the one who was to be it. They tied the bandanas over their eyes.
Ian and John invented a lot of games, but the one game they thought was pure genius was 'Blind Tag', where they both run around trying to tag each other while wearing blindfolds. It was really quite dangerous.
John tripped a number of ten times, and bumped into things eleven times, while Ian tripped nine times but bumped into things twelve times. They vaguely heard their older brothers crossing the street but they paid no heed to them. They just laughed and laughed, chasing after each other until they heard a car zooming close by. It screeched to a halt and they distinctly heard a thud.
"Sonovabitch!" They heard Mick, Ian's older brother, exclaim vehemently.
They ripped their blindfolds off to see what all the commotion was about. Chris was lying in the middle of the street, blood spilling around him from his leg; his face was screwed up in pain. The car that hit him backed up and then sped off.
Mick shouted over to them, "GO GET HELP, JOHN!"
John then sprinted back into the house with all his might. Panting he stopped in the doorway of the living room where his parents were still arguing.
"Chris got hit boy a car!" he yelled and then sprinted back outside to where Mick and Ian were standing around Chris.
His mother then burst out of the house and shoved John and Mick aside to get a better look at Chris.
"Chris, Chris are you okay?" she asked frantically, shaking Chris's shoulder.
Chris moaned in pain.
Beatty Franz, the middle aged woman that lived across the street shouted, "What happened? Is he okay? Should I call an ambulance?"
Sue just waved her hand at the neighbor without looking up.
"John, Ian, go watch Irene. Now," she said sharply and the two seven year olds scrambled up and hopped over the little fence to the sandbox where Irene was still playing.
John watched as his dad rushed out of the house and to Chris five minutes later. And ten minutes after that they heard the sirens of the ambulance. Neighbors were starting to come out and take a look, asking if they were okay.
They watched as the paramedics carefully lifted Chris up onto a stretcher, and as his mother climbed in after Chris and they watched as the ambulance drove away and to the hospital.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sorry this took so long! I'm suffering a little bit of writer's block for this story and the chapter isn't nearly as long as I wanted it but this will have to do. Well, R&R and cookies to all who guesses what happened to the rest of the cigarettes! Think!
Summary- St. John Allerdyce always had a fascination with fire. My story on Pyro's life before Magneto.
Author's Note- It may seem I'm just jumping in the years and things awfully quick, but John being age eight and under isn't as important. Again, I apologize for the accents.
Chapter Four- Accident
Ian Larson and John Allerdyce had been best friends for a year now. They would always walk to each other's houses play fun games and just do a bunch of fun stuff. Right now, they were sitting on the floor with a bunch of chocolate in front of them, taunting poor two-year old Irene.
"No, no" John teased, waving a piece of chocolate brownie in front of her face, and when her chubby little hands when to reach for it, he'd snatch it back and take a bite out of it. "Yoah not old enough ta eat MOY chocolate." And he stuffed the rest of his brownie into his mouth and chewing it with his mouth open. Clearly this seven year old didn't have any manners.
Irene burst out in tears.
John moaned in exasperation. "Don' ya evah stop croyin'?"
Ian shook his head. "Nope, she doesn't."
Sue then came into the living room to see what Irene was crying about this time. "Wot did ya do *now*?" she said in annoyance.
John spoke in his defense, "OY didn' do anything! Me and Ian 'ere woz just mindin' our own business, when Irene 'ere troid ta steal our chocolate!"
"Oy doubt that, John," she said and bent down to scoop Irene in her arms. Irene wrapped her arms around her neck in a death grip and cried her little heart out on her mother's shoulder.
"It's the truth!" He protested, "It's the truth! She can' have moy chocolate! It's mine! Isn't she too young? Whoy do ya awlways blame ME?"
Sue rubbed her rubbed her forehead with one hand wearily as she listened to John.
"Oy'm not loyin'! Oy'm not loyin'! Whoy do ya awlways blame me?" John wailed over and over again until Sue nearly cried.
"Would ya stop, *please* John?" she said tiredly, setting a protesting Irene back on the floor.
"But Oy told you! Oy'm not loyin'! Oy'm tellin' the truth!" John said even though his mother didn't say otherwise.
"John, just shut up an' go an' get me moy cigarettes," she said and when she looked up and saw his hurt face she added softly, "Oy nevah said you were loyin'."
Silently John went to the kitchen where the cigarettes were, Ian following behind him. On the counter was a carton of his mother's brand of cigarettes. He reached up and grabbed it and then opened it and peered inside. There was only one left.
He lifted his head up to share a look with Ian. Ian just shrugged and turned around so they could go back to the living room. John followed.
He went up to his mother, who was now sitting on the couch, and she took them gratefully. Irene was attempting to climb up the couch herself but she was too short. Sue reached down and grabbed her arm and pulled her up so she could sit next to her.
She opened the pack and stared at it for awhile as Irene bounced around humming happily.
Sue looked up. Here eyes wandered the room for a minute before she hollered, "STEVE! STEVEN!" and she jumped to her feet as he came in looking very annoyed.
"Woman, if you wont tha' car fixed by today yoah gonna stop interruptin' me!" He snapped at her, all full of grease.
"Did you have all moy cigarettes?" She snarled at him.
"Oy had four of them, Oy ran out of moine!" He seethed back at her.
"Oy had awlmost a whole pack! Where the hell do you think the rest of them went?"
"Are you cawllin' me a liar?"
"Yes, Oy am."
"Well, Oy didn't take no more than four of yoah fuckin' cigarettes."
"Don't you tawlk ta me that way!"
"Oy can tawlk to you however Oy want."
John grabbed Irene hastily and ran out of the room with Ian behind them, both of them sensing a big fight coming.
"They foight ovah the stupidest things," he muttered to Ian.
Ian shook his head, "Don' fret, mate. Moy parents foight awl the time. An' then they foight awl the time with moy brothers and sister. Itsa nuthouse ovah theah."
"Let's go outside," John suggested. He really wanted to get away from the yelling.
They walked outside, and John placed Irene in a little fenced in play area they had so she wouldn't go wandering off. She happily played in her little sandbox.
"Ya wanna play 'Bloind Tag'?" asked Ian.
"Sure!" John said excitedly and hopped over the little fence to fetch the two bandanas that were close to where Irene was.
Then they played rock, paper, scissors to see who was it, and to John's dismay, he was the one who was to be it. They tied the bandanas over their eyes.
Ian and John invented a lot of games, but the one game they thought was pure genius was 'Blind Tag', where they both run around trying to tag each other while wearing blindfolds. It was really quite dangerous.
John tripped a number of ten times, and bumped into things eleven times, while Ian tripped nine times but bumped into things twelve times. They vaguely heard their older brothers crossing the street but they paid no heed to them. They just laughed and laughed, chasing after each other until they heard a car zooming close by. It screeched to a halt and they distinctly heard a thud.
"Sonovabitch!" They heard Mick, Ian's older brother, exclaim vehemently.
They ripped their blindfolds off to see what all the commotion was about. Chris was lying in the middle of the street, blood spilling around him from his leg; his face was screwed up in pain. The car that hit him backed up and then sped off.
Mick shouted over to them, "GO GET HELP, JOHN!"
John then sprinted back into the house with all his might. Panting he stopped in the doorway of the living room where his parents were still arguing.
"Chris got hit boy a car!" he yelled and then sprinted back outside to where Mick and Ian were standing around Chris.
His mother then burst out of the house and shoved John and Mick aside to get a better look at Chris.
"Chris, Chris are you okay?" she asked frantically, shaking Chris's shoulder.
Chris moaned in pain.
Beatty Franz, the middle aged woman that lived across the street shouted, "What happened? Is he okay? Should I call an ambulance?"
Sue just waved her hand at the neighbor without looking up.
"John, Ian, go watch Irene. Now," she said sharply and the two seven year olds scrambled up and hopped over the little fence to the sandbox where Irene was still playing.
John watched as his dad rushed out of the house and to Chris five minutes later. And ten minutes after that they heard the sirens of the ambulance. Neighbors were starting to come out and take a look, asking if they were okay.
They watched as the paramedics carefully lifted Chris up onto a stretcher, and as his mother climbed in after Chris and they watched as the ambulance drove away and to the hospital.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sorry this took so long! I'm suffering a little bit of writer's block for this story and the chapter isn't nearly as long as I wanted it but this will have to do. Well, R&R and cookies to all who guesses what happened to the rest of the cigarettes! Think!